


Cold Profession

by WoodleNoodle



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Duelling, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical Lams, I tried my best, Kinda, Laurens is weirdly religious, M/M, but i was too lazy to change it, but some things just don’t show up on google, does this count as hurt/comfort?, i wrote this and then heard he was a deist, probably, so i had to work with what i could
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodleNoodle/pseuds/WoodleNoodle
Summary: Wow, I’m so creative with titles!Hamilton can’t sleep because he’s worried about Laurens' duel tomorrow. Laurens comforts him. It's kind of cute, I guess.





	Cold Profession

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 1 am like two days ago and it’s honestly Not That Good but,,, fuck it! It’s about a thing that happened today 240 years ago. Someone wanted me to post it. Don’t have very high expectations.

The night was quiet. Hardly a sound dare make itself known in the frozen world outside, as if afraid the falling snow would choke anything breaking this silence. Or, perhaps, anything noisy would simply be shot by whoever was still awake at this hour. After all, it was the midst of a war. Startling a soldier would be the last thing you want to do.

Inside the encampments, it was not much louder, and certainly no warmer, despite how crowded it was for most. John Laurens was one of several aides-de-camp freezing his ass off at Valley Forge, and he really should have been asleep by now, as it was getting late. But no, there he laid in his cot, wide awake. He shivered from the cold, or perhaps dread. It was a particularly bad night for him to go without sleep; he had a duel the next day. He squeezed his eyes shut. Still nothing.

Laurens jumped slightly when he felt someone sit down at his side. Looking up at the red-haired man on his cot, a fond smile made its way onto his face. Alexander Hamilton smiled back down at him, a little nervously. Laurens always found that nervous smile of his cute. He lifted his blanket, pulling Hamilton under it. “There's no reason to sit out in the cold like that, I don't have smallpox.”

“I know,” Hamilton replied with a quiet laugh. That laugh always made Laurens weak. It was certainly a blessing from God that Hamilton fought against the British and not for them, otherwise Laurens would have surrendered the moment he heard it. Not that he would ever tell him that, in person or writing. He hummed, pulling Hamilton closer to him under the cover. “So why are you up at this time of the night?”

“I could ask the same of you.” Hamilton rolled his eyes, nuzzling into the crook of Laurens' neck, his warmth against the other man's skin very welcome. “I was too cold to get to sleep.”

“That's not the reason, is it? You've slept peacefully on nights much colder than this.”

Hamilton remained silent. Though Laurens could not see his lover's face, the sudden heat against his shoulder was a dead giveaway. “I was- You- You mean to imply that- that you've watched me as I lay asleep?”

Laurens stifled a laugh. “Only briefly. It's not my fault you’re so adorable.” He shook his head, grinning. “But tell me, I do wish to know. What’s really kept you up so late?”

Hamilton's voice came quietly, more of a muttering than a properly spoken sentence.

“Apologies, dear boy, you'll have to speak up.”

“...I-I was worried about you.” Hamilton was grateful that he couldn’t be seen, because he was sure that his face was bright red. “I don't want you to... to get hurt in the duel tomorrow. I... I don't think that I would be able to... go on fighting this war, without you.”

Laurens frowned, pulling himself away just far enough so that he could plant a kiss on Hamilton's forehead. He caressed his cheek, running a hand through his hair and tucking some behind his ear. “I won't die, okay? I promise you that.”

“But- you can't guarantee that.” Hamilton looked down at him, worry in his face. Laurens could easily tell that he was holding back tears. “What if Lee shoots you in the chest, or the head? What if the last sight I see of you alive is-“

“Alexander, shh.” Laurens leaned in, softly kissing him. “I'll be alright. Lord willing and the creek don't rise, you'll be right here in my arms tomorrow night, and we'll be laughing about how Lee cried like a baby when I shot him.”

Hamilton smiled faintly, letting out a soft chuckle despite his tears. “You promise?”

“God as my witness.” Laurens pulled him in for another few kisses before letting go. “Are you alright now? Can you go back to bed?”

Hamilton averted his gaze, his cheeks still burning red. “Well... I was... I wanted to... sleep with you, if that’s not a problem.”

“I assure you, it’s not.” He smiled, scooting over to leave Hamilton a bit more room on the small cot as he laid back down. Hamilton laid next to him, though his upper half was practically sprawled across him. He adjusted himself a few times, finally positioning himself on his side, his arms wrapped around Laurens' torso and using his chest as a pillow.

Laurens smiled down at his lover, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “Goodnight.”

Hamilton looked up at him, smiling fondly. “Goodnight, my dear Laurens. You better keep that promise, too, or I'l totally fight you when I die.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He laughed quietly, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around Hamilton, yawning and letting his eyes fall shut. Hamilton fell asleep soon after, his snores filling the cabin as he slept, happily dreaming in the cozy warmth of his lover's arms.


End file.
